


This Year's Love

by Elizabeth1985



Series: Destiel Ficlets [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute, Dancing, Dean singing, Dean singing to Cas, First Anniversary, Fluff, Footsies, M/M, Swearing, all the emotion ugh, feelsies, mention of sex / skipping over the sex part, romantic, thunderstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:09:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7112950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth1985/pseuds/Elizabeth1985
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a long road, and not an easy one, but when Dean and Cas make it to their first anniversary, Dean pulls out <i>all</i> the stops. A quaint cabin in the woods, dancing, singing, a roaring wood stove, not to mention some quality love-makin'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Year's Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pretentiosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretentiosity/gifts).



> Fic gift prompt: **pretentiosity:** "How about some destiel fluff? dancing inside while it storms outside? (take your time because thanks for offering this)" 
> 
> Thanks to [agirlfromottawa](agirlfromottawa.tumblr.com) for beta'ing for me ♥
> 
> As always, if I missed any tags, or I made last minute edits and there are errors, drop me a [line](cocklesheadboop.tumblr.com/ask)

A lot had happened in Purgatory. The life-changing kind of stuff.

Dean had let his guards down, Cas too. And a part of them never really thought they’d make it out. It started innocently, a cold night in a private alcove of trees, Dean had been fighting off sleep, his bones shaking under his skin. Cas, with his angelic natural warmth, offered to ease his discomfort.

So they stretched out together, bodies aligned, heat shared. It had been born from necessity, not want. But several nights after, as he wiped the blood of their enemy from Cas’ battleworn face, Dean’s fingers lingered, detouring from the streaks of red to the soft plush curve of Cas’ lips. Dean had cleared his throat, muttered something about backspray and curled in the dirt for a lonely night’s sleep. Studiously not thinking of how that mouth would feel against his own, how warm, sweet, and soft...

And so it went, interactions dancing with the line of something more than friendship. It was the day Cas had nearly died that Dean dropped the ruse and dragged him by the lapels away from Benny and into the thick, eerie forest. Without a word, he’d thrown Cas (angel powers and all) up against a tree and attacked. Kissing him hard, tasting his mouth as if he owned it, nudging his knee between Cas’ legs like that’s where it belonged.

That moment had been an awakening. Stirring in Dean all sorts of feelings, needs, and passions he had no hope in hell of ignoring. Not anymore. It wasn’t smooth, whatever they’d become, but they fell into routine none the less. Fighting, fucking, keeping each other whole. Much to Benny’s blatant dismay. Third-wheeling in Purgatory, without walls or headphones, had to have sucked.

But all was good, in the relative sense. Until they’d escaped.

Topside, they had to relearn how to be with each other, they had to tell Sam about what went down. Every day hunting alongside worry and fear was another beast. But, like before, they managed. They came out ahead. Problems were faced, and tenaciously solved.

They fought, but always came back to each other, always one of them crawling back into bed before the night was through, murmurs of _I’m sorry_ rising from under the sheets between frantic kisses.

It was October, 2013, a year since they’d escaped Purgatory, one whole year of being a functioning, normal couple. Well, Dean corrected, not exactly _normal_ in the Norman Rockwell sense, but as normal as any two male hunters in love can get.

Dean had been turning over ideas in his head for their anniversary, wondering how best to showcase his love for Cas, what the angel meant to him. Eventually, he decided what they needed most, what Cas would truly appreciate, would be time alone together. No hunting, no bickering with Sam about lore. Just a quiet getaway in a cabin somewhere.

That’s how they found themselves on a clear Friday evening, Dean steering the Impala over packed dirt roads, winding into a hillside towards seclusion. Cas staring out at the bypassing trees, his eyes absorbed in nature. Thank you AirBnB and credit card fraud.

When the cabin came into view, all log-built beautiful, Dean shut off the engine and turned to Cas. When he tried to speak, emotion clogged up his throat. He cleared it with a cough and muttered, “Home sweet home.”

Cas licked his lips and grinned wide. The angel said nothing, maybe he too was having the same feelsies overload Dean was wading in.

They exited the car, grabbed their bags from the backseat and hiked up the shallow incline to the front porch. Their boots thudded on the old wood, creaks and groans that made Dean happy. This was normal, he thought. This was what normal couples did.

The door was secured with an electronic numeric pad, and he had the digits memorized from the email when he’d booked the place. Punching in the code, he opened the door and stepped inside, Cas on his heels.

It was open concept, dark wood giving the place character. The small kitchen towards the back corner was remarkably modern, sporting a gas stove and a dishwasher, despite the rustic feel throughout.

To their left, a wall of windows opened the entire cabin to a view of the mountains. An endless stretch of varying shades of green rolling in valleys and peaks to a grey-orange horizon. And in front of the same wall as the front door, taking up a good chunk of real estate, sat a black iron wood stove. A pile of chopped wood stacked beside it.

In the stark middle of the space, sat a king-sized bed. This was no cabin. This was a nature-lovers fuckpad.

Cas piped up from behind him, “Damn.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, no shit.” Dropping his bag to the floor, he turned to Cas, pulling him in for a kiss, then said, “Happy Anniversary, babe.”

“Happy Anniversary, Dean.” Cas released his grip on his own duffel and flung his arms around Dean’s waist and barreled him towards the bed. They both laughed, tripped, and ultimately landed on the soft surface, their bodies slamming together.

Giggling and thrilled, they stripped each other down like kids unwrapping presents on Christmas morning, all zeal and no patience. The wrapping tossed aside carelessly.

 

An indefinite span of time later, sweaty and sated, Dean rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. Cas’ warmth lay beside him, their skin sticking together in the aftermath of an exerted fucking. Dimly, he listened to Cas’ attempts to reset his breathing, pictured the angel’s post-orgasm glow. The way those blue eyes seemed to get bluer.

His brain kicking back to life, Dean ran through a list in his mind of what he should do next: start a fire, make dinner, change the sheets…  Instead, he rolled back towards Cas and draped himself over the overheated body, his eyes opening up to take in Cas’ gorgeous familiar features.

Dean smiled, joy bursting from within. “I love you.”

It wasn’t the first of such declarations, certainly not the last. Still, it was rare for Dean, he wasn’t great at busting out the affection. Cas, goddamn saint that he was, never made a fuss about it, never nagged him for touch in public, or got upset if a week or more went by without him saying the things a lover should say.

So this time, as the words came out, his voice warped with emotion, Cas melted below him. Long, tanned arms circled around Dean’s neck, pulling him down. With their lips grazing close, but not smashed, Cas breathed a reply, “Love you too, Dean.”

Sealing them in a kiss, Dean worked his tongue inside, stroking into the slick heat of Cas’ mouth. A low series of moans began between them, a mixture of Dean’s low gravel and Cas’ thick resonance.

The fire could wait, he decided. Food could wait.

 

When round two was over, Dean fell onto the battered pine floor in a desperate mission for cool air--his body vastly overheated, his lungs screaming for a full load of oxygen. His muscles sore and aching from taking Cas in about eight different positions. Basically, a workout with a sex bene on the side.

“Jesus, Cas.” Wiping his face, Dean noted the dead weight feeling in his limbs. “I’ll start us a fire… I just need to…” _regenerate,_ he thought with a breathless chuckle.

“I’m sore,” Cas grumbled. Dean heard him move around, the bed creaking. Little gruff whimpers as he organized his stiff joints. Dean debated telling the guy to tap into his mojo, but Cas never listened to him before about that, said he wanted to “keep it real” or whatever. Which was all fine and dandy, ‘cept Dean was totally gonna go for round three later that night, which’d be hard to do if they were both tender from some quality love-making.

Lifting his hand in the air so it was level with the top of the mattress, Dean made a low noise in his throat. “You hungry?”

Cas reached over and took his head, linking their fingers together. “Yes. Starving. I want every type of food that’s ever been created.”

Dean laughed. He squeezed Cas’ hand in his. “I’m gonna say it,” he warned.

“No, Dean. We are normal human couple.” Meaning angelic powers were not to be used, Dean concluded.

Snorting, he replied, “Normal and human are quite the stretch there Cas.”

“Well,” Cas sighed, “you’re human, and I’m normal.”

At the same time, they erupted into fits of laughter. Dean, breathlessly, tried to drag Cas off the bed using their attached hands, his fingers gripping tight, his bicep hardening, tugging with his whole body.

With a hard tumble, and a blunt curse, Cas crashed onto him. “ _Dean!_ ” he grunted.

Wrapping Cas in a tight hold, the angel’s body draped over him, Dean met his startled gaze and flushed cheeks. “First of all, neither of us are normal… and I’m not even sure I’m fully human after what my soul’s been through so how about you just angelically scrub away our aches and pains and then I’ll start the fire and you can start dinner.”

Cas studied him, reading his expression for a long few seconds. With sudden energy he dished out a chaste kiss, pulled back and grinned deviously wide. “Nope.” Giving a real pop to that ‘p’ as well. Damn, this fucker was cute, Dean thought. How had he gotten through a day without seeing such joy in Cas’ eyes before?

Popping up off of him, Cas padded stark naked to the wood stove. “I’ll do this, you take care of dinner.” He gestured with his thumb to the kitchen.

Dean shook his head. Friggin’ angel. “Fine. Do you even know what you’re doing?” Insulted, Cas threw a glare over his shoulder and didn’t respond. Dean shrugged. “ _Okaaay…_ ” he murmured under his breath, then got to his feet to take care of their nutritional needs.   

Forty minutes later, the sun long gone, candles lit around the room, Dean sat down across from Cas at the small table past the kitchen. A simple meal of chicken, rice, and veggies set out for them. Warm buttery rolls in the centre. Both of them wearing nothing but boxers in the wood-stove heated sauna that had become the cabin.

They ate in comfortable silence, ears tuned to the low sounds of nature beyond the walls, their bare feet rubbing together under the table. Toes all in there too—shit was fucking adorable is what it was. Throughout the meal, they traded secretive smiles, like what they had together was something rare; a buried treasure shared between thieves.

After his last bite, Dean placed his fork on the plate and reached over for Cas’ empty dish. He wondered if they’d go for a walk, or maybe relax on the porch. Maybe they could have a bonfire outside, Cas would like that.

Not bothering to clean the dishes, he rinsed off the bigger bits of leftover food with the spray feature from the tap, his mind wonderfully at peace. It was an unusual feeling for Dean. Even if he hadn’t heard the telltale creaks of the old pine floors, he would’ve sensed Cas step in behind him. Solid arms looped around his midsection, crossing over his full belly. Cas’ chin rested on his bare shoulder. Though he hadn’t planned on washing the dishes, the Cas-shaped distraction resulted in an extraneous rinsing action… the plate clean long before he stopped running water over it.

Cas’ thumb dragged back-and-forth against his skin, lips passing over Dean’s throat in soft, barely-there kisses. Dean began to hum lowly, an expression of happiness mixed with a distant song somewhere in the back of his mind.

When he eventually cranked the tap off, the room falling into relative silence, the daps of rain on the tin roof were noticeable. As much as he’d been looking forward to a bonfire with Cas, this would be just as good. The languid allure of rain dripping on a tin roof, the two of them cooped up in a cabin in the woods with a roaring fire. It didn’t get any better.

Not for Dean it didn’t.

Emotion swelled in his chest, his throat tightening down on the feeling. Fighting the overwhelming moment, his astonishment over having something like this, Dean had to brace his hands on the counter.

“I know,” Cas whispered, kissing below his ear. “Nothing bad will happen. Not tonight anyway.”

“Better not,” he murmured.

Inhaling sharp and steady, Dean rounded on Cas and crushed him in a hug, his lips finding a home on Cas’ as the rain picked up overhead. The dap-dap-dap of two minutes ago, was now a chorus of fast pitter-patter, a pitched sound on the tin. Dean’s eyes were closed, his hands reaching to grab Cas’ firm ass under the cotton of his boxers when the first flash of lightening lit up the room, followed sharply by the crack and rumble of thunder.

It was hard to hold a kiss wearing a smile. Dean lifted his hands to Cas’ cheeks, cradling his beautiful face, holding it steady between his palms. Lifting his lids, Dean searched Cas’ eyes, looked for the reasons to explain why he was so perfect. Why no one else compared. Why he was willing to risk his sanity should Cas ever die.

Other than familiar blue, and clear deep-seated love, Dean only saw his best friend, the singular individual who scrambled his brain and cranked him up with nothing but his voice.

“What?” asked Cas, the lingering stare making Cas self-conscious.

Dean faintly shook his head. “Nothing.” Kissing Cas, then pressing his lips together, he said, “I just… I’m lucky. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet, and sometimes it just… baffles me. How’d we get this, Cas?” It wasn’t rhetorical, it was an honest curiosity.

The angel bowed against him, their hips brushing together. Nuzzling their faces closer, then dipping low to place a few kisses along Dean’s jaw, Cas quietly replied, “Given all that we’ve faced, all that we’ve sacrificed, I conversely wonder why we didn’t get this sooner. How could we let it… pass us by… and why in the world did we decide hooking up in Purgatory, without showers or beds, was a wise move.”

Dean breathed a laugh. “Yeah, that was… well… not ideal.”

Absently, Cas gently pinched Dean’s earlobe; making him sleepy. “No it wasn’t,” Cas agreed.

More lightning and roars of thunder barreled into their little hideaway, and he was glad they weren’t outside on a walk when it had started. Dean stole a kiss, then ducked out of Cas’ arms to go restock the fire, not wanting the chill of a nighttime thunderstorm to dampen the mood.

After shoving two more logs into the toasty red-hot cavern of the iron stove, Dean turned to find Cas lounging on the bed, bare legs hanging off, his face turned to the large casement window. Remaining unnoticed, Dean took the moment to appreciate the view. And no, not the nighttime backdrop through the glass with the wiggly streaks veining down and the flickers of lightning in the distance, but Cas.

The memories of their brief time together flipped through Dean’s mind like a rolodex. Some moments were shaded with gore, fights and hunts gone awry. Others carried a haze of arousal, a lot of heady moments fogged over because his brain lacked function when Cas took him apart like that. Errant bits and pieces too, insignificant in appearances; a stolen kiss before being separated, Cas’ fingers inroading through Dean’s hair on a quiet morning, a lingering hug in the kitchen. Those were the moments that made up perfection. In Dean’s relatively inexperienced opinion anyway.

Not that he would be writing the handbook on great loves, that was for sure.

After a stretched set of minutes, Cas registered his creepster stare and smiled before he faced Dean. “You’re staring again.”

“Am I not allowed?” he countered.

Cas faintly grinned, almost coy. “You are. Though it makes me, um, _nervous_. Or something close to that. It’s a peculiar sensation.”

Approaching the bed, Dean had no clear plan on his next move, his thoughts on standby. So it surprised both of them when he took Cas’ hand and yanked him onto his feet and said, “Come on, Mr. Nervous, dance with me.”

Dean’s masculine pride, stroked by his romantic prowess, drew a sly grin into his expression. Cas noticed.

“Dance with you?” Cas echoed, tipping his chin to look at Dean through dense lashes. “Like, a slow dance?” It was amusing, frankly, to see such a stunned, wary expression in Cas’ features. As if the idea of Dean proposing a nighttime, musicless turn around the room was more unfathomable than the mystical creatures they fought.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah.” Taking Cas’ arms he flung them around his neck. “Hey, I might be a little rough around the edges, but I can woo and seduce with the best of them.”

“I highly doubt I require seducing,” Cas deadpanned.

Their half-naked situation, along with the come-stained bedsheets were evidence of that. Still, Dean was enjoying the moment’s delusion of a good seduction scheme. “You are pretty easy,” he teased.

Retaliating, Cas tugged a chunk of Dean’s hair at the nape of his neck, his head wrenching back. “ _Hey!_ ” the angel griped.

Dean ignored the protest. Mouth curving up at the corners, he decided it was time to bust out the moves. Shaking his head back and forth to dislodge Cas’ fingers from yanking his hair, he then tightened his arms around Cas’ ribs, hands settling on the angel’s lower back and pressed his cheek to the side of Cas’ face, loving the intimacy of it. Realizing how starved he’d been for it his whole life. 

In a barely-there rumble, Dean hummed. Guiding their motions, he swayed them together. Every imperceptible shift, their skin brushed together; chest-to-chest, thigh-to-thigh. Despite the stifling heat, Dean felt Cas’ tight nipples as they grazed his own. Both of them highly aware of the cause. Other things were growing hard too, warping the mood from romantic to hedonistic. The ridiculous picture they no doubt made was not lost on him, and he grinned at the idea of two men, tented-boxers-only, slow-dancing as a thunderstorm rolled through the sky above. How awesomely gay, he thought hilariously.

Releasing a satisfied sigh, Cas crushed up against him, ducking his face into Dean’s neck. His voice rose in a murmur, “Sing.”

The stark ‘ _No Way_ ’ hovered on the tip of his tongue, but it was _Cas_. Chewing his lip, Dean skimmed through a list of songs in his head. What tune would even do this moment justice? He could tell Cas knew he was pondering the request, the angel’s patience a near tangible thing. Dean had learned so much about Cas over the last year, the angel’s thoughts no longer a great mystery. Now, he could usually make out the train of his thoughts with a simple read of his expression.

After a couple slow turns, more of a shuffle-shuffle sort of thing, Dean thought of a worthy song. He moistened his lips with a pass of his tongue and began to sing, his rough cadence building slow, “ _This year’s love had better last … heaven knows it's high time.”_ Dean felt Cas smile, he responded the same. Humming the melody, he carried on, “ _And I've been waiting on my own too long ... but when you hold me like you do, it feels so right.”_

Thunder interrupted his gravelly resonance, voice too low to be smooth. Passing over a few words, his mind growing unfocused, he picked the song back up in a part he knew better, “ _If you love me got to know for sure … ‘Cos it takes something more this time … than sweet,_ sweet _lies … Before I open up my arms and fall._ ”

Dean paused, humming again, distracted by Cas’ scent, the warmth of this skin. A gentle tug on his hair refocused him. “ _Every dream inside my soul … And when you kiss me … On that midnight street … Sweep me off my feet … Singin’ ain't this life so sweet_.”

“ _This year’s love had … better last,_ ” he sang, repeating over, “ _This year’s love had better last._ ” Closing the song, his voice dropped, softer and barely audible. “ _Heaven knows it's high time, so this year’s love had better last…”_ The final word lingered, and he knew he’d mangled the lyrics, but couldn’t be bothered. Cas wouldn’t know different anyhow.

In the absence of his deep voice, the rain seeming louder all of a sudden, Dean faintly heard Cas hitch a breath, followed by a sniff.

Leaning back, he regarded Cas’ withdrawn stance, having to grasp the angel’s chin to raise his head to see him better. Dean’s lips flattened into a line, his eyebrows furrowing. He went for a joke. “Am I that terrible?”

Smiling through silent tears, Cas laughed in a breathless sound. “No,” he said, voice hoarse. “No, it was… perfect. It’s all… astoundingly… _perfect._ ”

Dean quirked a brow. “Does that mean I’m getting into your pants before the night’s over?”

Cas made a low irritated noise in the back of his throat. He then jumped unexpectedly, his thighs wrapping tight around Dean’s hips, throwing him off balance. Bearing down on Dean, grinning devilishly, Castiel said, “You mean getting into my loose, barely existent boxers which I stole from you?”

“Yes,” Dean purred, his hands shifting under Cas’ backside to bolster some of the weight. Cas wasn’t light.

“Perhaps.” They locked stares, Cas’ calculating blue eyes clearly thinking over what they’d do next. “On one condition…” Dean raised his eyebrows so Cas went on, “we take all the blankets from the bed and lay them in front of the woodstove and do it there.”

Dean laughed hard. Man, he loved Cas. Loved him _bad._ “What cheesy 70’s porn have you been watching?”

The angel smiled down at him. “It’s romantic,” he claimed.

Yes, it definitely would be. Dean tipped his chin back, bringing his lips to Cas’ mouth, seeking a kiss. They fell into a deep, languid kiss, each motion explorative and patient. Even now, after a year of intimacy, Dean’s heart fluttered at the feel of Cas’ tongue stroking against his. Goosebumps prickled over his shoulders when Cas exhaled into him, a hot brush of air across his tongue, their lips dragging together with each turn of the kiss… the moment rolling through time with an endless feel. It astounded Dean that something as simple as a kiss, considering his age and his past, had the power to make his knees weak.  After a while, he started to feel the weight of the man in his arms.

It was like struggling to get out of a dream, his eyes fluttering open and closed as he finally pulled back. Cas’ expression was warm and open, watching him right back.

He finally said, “If I don’t let you down… I might drop you.”

Cas laughed in a soft sound. “We can’t have that.” Dean shook his head in agreement, and unlatched his hands under Cas’ backside, letting the angel get his bare feet back on the floor.

Taking a step back, Cas made the move to go to the bed and grab the blankets and pillows. Dean caught his wrist and yanked him back into his arms.

“One year,” said Dean. “And you’re not sick of me yet?”

Tipping his head to the side, regarding Dean seriously, he replied, “Nope.”

“Well give it time,” Dean joked.

Cas tugged gently on Dean’s hold, though if he’d wanted, he easily could have broken free. “Can I go grab the blankets now and we can spend the entire night making love and basking in this wondrous drug.”

What a sap. “You mean being in _looooove_?” Dean smiled wide, a borderline smirk.

Scrunching his nose at Dean’s mockery, Cas sighed, “Yes. Being in love, Dean.”

Dean grabbed the back of Cas’ neck and pulled him in for a kiss, a quick one this time. “Alright, let’s show everyone what real romance looks like—grab them blankets and pillows.”

“Everyone?”

Shrugging, Dean said, “Oh ya know, peeping tom angels, maybe there’s a ghost hangin’ around… the deer outside the window.”

Biting his lip, Cas finally slipped his wrist free of Dean’s grasp. As the angel turned away, his eyes catching the light, Dean was abruptly overwhelmed with sheer happiness.

With everything he had, all of his will, Dean vowed right then to ensure he and Cas grew old together. Logistics and probability be damned, because he wasn’t missing any more anniversaries.

Not a single fucking one.

 

_*The End*_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So ROMANTIC (◡‿◡✿)


End file.
